Crack of Dawn
by Little Miss DiNozzo
Summary: Natalia DiNozzo wakes up in a dark room, beaten and disoriented. Where is she? Who brought her there? Who is the man with her? And most importantly, what do they want? rated 'T', just to be on the safe side
1. Prolougue

**Prologue**

_I sat up and tasted the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I spat out a mouthful of the stuff. Where was I?_

_I looked over and saw a man dressed in a suit, lying in a pool of blood; probably his own. I went to rush over, but my right hand was hand cuffed to a table, and I fell on my face._

_"ARGH!" I screamed in frustration._

_I tried to think of what had happened the day before for a clue of what happened to me._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I rolled over and slammed my hand down on the snooze button of my obnoxious alarm clock. There was no way it had been 8 hours already. I glanced over. 3:30! I groaned, I had slept 8 hours. Martin had arranged an early studio time. Why? Probably to torture us.

Whoever said singers picked their own hours is a lying sack of crap. If I had it my way, we wouldn't start recording until AT LEAST noon. I got out of bed and stretched. I heard Ziva snoring from the room next door. I giggled. That woman snores like a sailor.

I lowered my arms when I heard a satisfying pop from my tired joints. I trudged out of my room and grabbed a shower. 15 minuets later, I'm underdressed in black and white flannel pajama bottoms and my bright purple Colette Carr shirt; standing in the kitchen making toast.

"Toast, toast, I like toast!" I muttered to myself, quoting Dark Vegan, from Johnny Test. I heard a noise and spun around, ready to defend myself with the greasy butter knife in my hand. It was Ziva, wearing her fuzzy, olive green bathrobe and worn out bunny slippers.

"What are you doing up so early?" She questioned. "Might I ask you the same?" "I heard something coming from the kitchen." "I have an early studio time. I think Martin is trying to kill me." I glanced down at my freshly painted toe nails. The black polish shined under the fluorescent bulbs in the light fixture.

"Killing you or not, want me to make coffee?" "... How do we go from killing to caffeine?" I questioned. She just shrugged. "I am in the mood for coffee. Nothing like a 4 AM wake up for some coffee." I rolled my eyes "okay, sure. And yes please!" Ziva does make kick-ass coffee.

About 5 or 6 minuets later, once again, I heard a door opening. I turned and saw dad trudge out of his room. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was everywhere. He looked like an adorable little kid just waking up from a nap.

"Geeez, you girls are up early today" he said with a yawn. Ziva kissed him on the cheek. "Sorry for waking you, Tony." "Sorry, daddy." I replied with a hug. "I think Martin is attempting to kill me." "Another 5:30 recording session?" I nodded drowsily. "That man is nice, but doesn't he know teenagers don't fully wake up until 11:30?" Ziva held out my life line; a hot cup of coffee with a small amount of french vanilla International Delights. I accepted it gingerly and took a big gulp. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

"Crap." I fumbled to pull it out without spilling a drop of the succulent brown-black liquid, and when I finally did, the call had gone to voice mail. It was from Martin.

"UGH!" I yelled in frustration. After carefully placing my travel mug on the small kitchen table, I ran to my room and grabbed my almost too small UGG knockoffs and a tight fitting black hoodie. As I ran out, I grabbed my beat up, Domo messenger bag and my coffee off the table, and kissed Dad and Ziva good bye on the cheek.

Outside, a yellow cab was waiting for me.

"House recording studios" I told the driver. He nodded as he pulled away from the curb.

I dug through my dying messenger bag, and pulled out a blinged out cell phone. I groaned. There was 5 missed calls. I hit re-dial, and sat back.

"Kirschbaum" "Martin, it's me" "Nat, you'd better hurry up!" "I'm on my way. You're a crazy man." "Because of the studio time?" "Mmhmm." I added more sass and a fake yawn to guilt him. "Sorry, Nat, but this was the only time I could get. It's going to be madness next year when you go back to school." "IF I go back..." "what do you mean IF?" "I'm thinking of joining an intern program at NCIS." "Natalia Ch-" I hung up. Geez, I love Martin, but he's a MAJOR PAIN IN THE BUTT SOMETIMES, and I was not in the mood for one of his 'Protective father' speeches. I was actually just playing him. I was planning to volunteer full time at the DC animal shelter. Gah...

Twenty minuets later, I paid the driver and sauntered inside the brightly light building. When I stepped in, it smelled of coffee. Yum.

"Name?" the petite receptionist asked.

"Saint. Natalia Saint."

She looked on a computer.

"Ah, Natalia Saint, you're in recording booth number 5. Please, follow me."

I groggily followed her down a brightly lit hallway. I yawned for about the 5 thousandth time that morning.

After entering studio 5, I was greeted by a scowling Martin.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guysss! :D**

**If you can't tell, I dyed my hair blue! What do you guys think? Dad almost killed me, but it's so worth it! Anyways, I have a question for you guys, and if you guess it right... Well, I haven't figured out a prizes yet XD**

**the question is: What is the connection to my name (Before I changed it to DiNozzo) and my dad/NCIS?**

**I'll figure out a prize soon, and it will be something worth it!**

**~Nat, Xoxo**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"And good morning to you too, Mr. Cherry tree." I said, heavily lined with sarcasm. I could tell he was just as grumpy as I was. He just scowled some more; was he still mad at me not planning to go back to school?

"Hey," I said. "Don't look at me like that. You're the one who sleeps at 3 in the morning, and-" "that's not why I'm upset." He pulled out a newspaper. "Read the main headline for the entertainment section."

I gave him a skeptical look, but I took the paper, and flipped to page 40; the start of the 'fabloids' (fake tabloids).

The headline read '_Lifeline; breaking up?_'

I looked up; a look of shock, I assumed, was on my face.

"It says that you're an inside source." "Who ever did this, said these things;** IT WAS NOT ME!**" "... I'm not really in the mood for chit-chat. Tiana and Breeanna have the baseline down for the '_8Bit Heart_' remix. You ready, or want a listen?" "Obviously I want a listen."

I plugged my ice white Beats by Dre into the headphone jack. Martin turned up the volume and I heard a beautiful melody, and a great beat. I closed my eyes and I could feel my voice, singing Simon Curtis's words flowing through it. A small smile appeared on my face. I loved hearing new music.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder as I listened to it for the third time. I paused the gorgeous track, and popped the headphones off my head.

"Ready yet?" I nodded.

After un-plugging my head phones from the DJ mixer board and sauntering into the recording booth and re-plugging them in, I heard Martin's husky voice enter my ears.

"Ready?" I flashed him a thumbs up.

I saw him press a button, and I heard the relaxing melody hit my ears again.

Martin cued me, and I sung.

_What would you say if I said that I want you? Would you laugh at me and maybe think I was crazy? 'Cause I don't know any other way than to say the way that I feel But it doesn't ever work and it hurts to the bone always feeling so damn alone Is it so, so wrong to love? Baby is it so, so wrong to love? Is it so, so wrong to love and to be loved in return?_

I felt a twinge of sadness, and then excitement run through me. I love Simon's music, and to have his permission to remix and SING one of his songs was a huge privilege.

_I don't know what to do 'cause I think that I need you And I'm afraid 'cause intuition's telling me that you don't feel the same Ooh I wanna hold your hand but I don't think you understand just how I'm feeling inside Oh baby please don't play with strings that dangle me because I'd rather have nothing than lies._

_Is it so, so wrong to love? Baby is it so, so wrong to love? Is it so, so wrong to love and to be loved in return?_

_Is it so, so wrong to love? Baby is it so, so wrong to love? Is it so, so wrong to love and to be loved in return?_

I felt a tear come to my eye.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I coughed at the end. I had to be catching a cold. Great. I stepped out of the booth to see how it sounded. Typically, if I push my voice too far, I end up sounding like a dying cat... Even worse if I'm starting to get sick.

I stepped out of the booth, and got a drink of water.

Martin pushed a button on the board, and I heard my voice mix with Breeanna and Tiana's track. It sounded pretty good. I could never be able to match Simon's voice, though; his was flawless.

At the exact moment it ended, my phone went off.

"Excuse et moi."

I backed out of the studio. The call was from Ziva.

"Hey, Zi." McGee's voice came out of the hand set instead of Ziva's. "Nat, it's me." "Hey, Tim, what's up?" I heard a sound of concern coming from him. "Ziva's been attacked. We're sending an escort car to come pick you up for questioning." "WHO THE HELL WOULD ATTACK ZIVA?" "Nat, please calm do-" "No, Tim. Ziva is practically my mother. I WILL NOT calm down." "Nat, put up a fit all you want, but... I can't say anything until you get to NCIS." My voice started shaking. "I-is she okay?" "They aren't saying. Nat, Abby's coming to get you. You'll be better emotionally off with her. She'll be there in about 15 minuets. See you in a bit." He hung up. I pulled my phone shakily away from my ear. I felt my eyes starting to leak, until I was full blown crying. I burst into the studio, hurriedly collected my things, scaring Martin in the process, and bolting out of the building, sitting on the frigid curb, and bawling my eyes out.

I don't know how long I was there, but through the sobs, I felt the presence of someone sit beside me. Still crying out my eyes, I felt an muscular arm draped in a black shawl wrap around my shoulder. Abby pulled me closer, and I rested my head on her delicate shoulder, trying not to ruin the soft fabric with my running eyeliner.

She rubbed my back to try to soothe me. It only helped a little. I needed dad.

She finally spoke. "Nat, c'mon, we need to get back to NCIS." I nodded, and stood up, following her to her car.

We drove mostly in silence. The radio was faintly on, and I could hear "No I.D." by Frankmusik and Colette Carr humming out of the speakers.

After exiting the security check point and parking, I got out, and somehow, managed to walk in, and go through security again.

On my way to the elevator, Abby grabbed my shoulder.

"Nat, please don't do anything stupid." I nodded, and hit the button to go down to autopsy.

Upon arrival, I saw Gibbs, Ducky and McGee standing around a cold metal autopsy table. I swallowed a hard lump in my throat, and stepped forward.

Gibbs was the first to see me.

"DiNozzo!" he hollered at me. I felt the blood drain from my face when everyone stepped back from the table. It was dad was sitting on the slab.

He was still wearing his clothes from the scene and he had a huge gash on his forehead. His clothes were covered in blood; I couldn't tell if it was his or Ziva's, a look of regret on his face.

"... Dad?" I whispered. He looked up. I could see the pain in his eyes. I started crying again, and he motioned for me to come forward.

I walked over, and he crushed me to his chest.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I felt dad's warm embrace envelope me.

"Daddy" I whimpered. "What happened?"

He looked at Gibbs. Gibbs nodded at him with authority.

"We were going out to catch a suspect and bring him in. When we got there, we were ambushed. I had blacked out before I had a full grasp at what was happening. When I woke up, Ziva was lying in a pool of blood. I thought I had lost her."

I felt him cry into my shoulder. Dad almost never cries.

"Is...is she okay?" "We don't know."

I pulled away from him, and looked at Gibbs.

"Why would anyone want to hurt Ziva?" "We don't know."

I felt myself start to cry again. Ziva was too important in my life to lose.

Gibbs placed a hand on my free shoulder. "Nat," the old man started "we need to talk."

He attempted to comfort me as he escorted the walking river of eyeliner that I was into the elevator, allowing me to cry into his side. Once carefully tucked inside, he switched off the power.

I slumped to the floor and held my face in my hands, and the silver haired man crouched down to my level and pulled my hands away to look me in the eye.

"Natalia... I know this is hard, but I need you to answer some questions honestly in the conference room. Can you do that for me?"

I nodded. He switched the power back on and wrapped an arm around me as we took a slow ride halfway up the building.

Upon arrival, he escorted me in, an had me sit down.

"Natalia, you and Ziva are close, right?" I nodded.

"Did she seem... Concerned about anything? Did she act like someone was following her or anything unusual?"

I shook my head. "Special Agent Gibbs, if something was wrong, she was acting pretty carefree and happy... I know Ziva isn't THAT good of an actress... She's always bound to let the tiniest hint slip." "That's what we're worried about. We think the attack might actually have ties to you."

My jaw dropped.

"Personally, I told Leon no way, but... He thinks there is more than what meets the eye with you... Something... I dunno.. Evil, apparently." "Gibbs-" he cut me off "But we have to take precautions, first Ziva, next it's you and Tony-"

"GIBBS!" I screamed. "Can you please stop?" I felt the tears. "Please. Just. STOP!"

I stormed out.

I heard him call after me, but I ignored him. After shutting myself and riding down the elevator, I stormed out the building and started running. I just wanted to get away from this nightmare. After leaving the Naval yard on foot, I took the first left.

That's all I remember before the van showed up.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I tugged at the rope holding my wrist to the table. It was tough, but a flimsy kind of rope the wasn't good for knotting. With my free hand, I started to find where the knots my attacker had tied.

All were very amateur; I had the one tightly binding my wrist undone in under what felt like five minuets. I pulled out my wrist and rubbed the bright red mark on it.

It was deep, but it would heal.

I ran over to the man lying in the pool of blood, and turned him over; and what I saw shocked me.

It was McGee.

His eyes were closed, and he was hardly breathing.

I moved him away from the blood, did a quick assessment, and found a solitary gun shot wound to the shoulder. He was unconscious, but alive. I assessed his ABC's, and I found a small obstruction in his airway. Unable to tell what it was, I started performing CPR.

"C'mon, stay with me, Tim." I said while I adjusted his head.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7-" I started counting and I heard him cough. I took my hands up as he sat up.

He struggled to breathe; and he remained unconscious. I took another look into his mouth.

The object obstructing his airway was now visible; so I went for it. I hooked it with my pinkie, and scooped it out. It was a piece of denim; probably originally used as a gag. Tim must have swallowed it.

I waited, but he remained unconscious, so I resumed CPR.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10-" Tim coughed again; this time, blinking and sitting up to cough.

"Nat?" "Hey, Tim."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Where are we?" "I have no idea. I just woke up; and I was here." "Are you okay?" "I should be. You're the one with the hole in the shoulder."

Tim grabbed his shoulder and winced.

"Told you."

Not a second after those words escaped my lips, I heard a door break; and light came pooling in.

I squinted and put my hands up, to show I was unarmed.

"Natalia! McGee! Are you in there?" it was Gibbs.

"Yes!" I hollered back. "Gibbs! We're down here!" "Nat, we can't come in; STAY WHERE YOU ARE! There is a possibility that there is a bomb underneath there!" "Great" I mumbled.

The next few minuets were some of the longest of my life. I was shaking so badly, Tim had to hold on to me to keep me calm.

From outside, I heard Abby scream "CLEAR!", and I sighed in relief.

I saw Gibbs walk in. I tried to stand, but I collapsed under my own weight. I felt him scoop me up, and I buried my face into his jacket. He smelled of coffee, gun powder and most surprisingly, Burberry cologne.

I clung onto him like a koala to a tree as he walked outside.

"Nat!" I heard dad scream.

"Gibbs!" a familiar voice called out. It was Doctor Brad Pitt; my doctor from when I shattered my ankle last year. Gibbs placed me down on a stretcher, and kissed my forehead.

I sat anxiously as the EMTs assessed me. McGee came over; his arm was in a sling and it was heavily bandaged.

"Hey, Nat. You okay?" "well, I feel like a pin cushion" I held up the arm with cotton gauze and an IV needle stuck in it. "And I could seriously use some chicken noodle soup. Other than that; shaken, not stirred."

He gave me a hug. "You'll be fine, Nat" the young agent replied with a smile. I smiled back. McGee's smile was contagious.


End file.
